Favorite
by ForestFireSong
Summary: It was a different world, before the opium and the war and the fighting, and it was a different England, too. Pressed against the wall in the summer heat, Yao knew that he and England were both different, his relationship with his 'most favored nation' irreparable. Along with the concessions dictated by the treaty, it was just another thing lost. [Post Opium War, slight Iggychu]


Hot air drifted over China, and he stirred uncomfortably in his robes. They were far too long for the summer heat. However, he kept his gaze even and forward and tried to appear to be paying attention to the conferring of his emperor and the leader of Britain, when in reality, he had tuned them out.

China knew that he probably should've focused, but the unhappiness and current turmoil of his citizens, right after the Opium War, prevented him from being relaxed and attentive. Not to mention the blasted opium, which European and American merchants continued to distribute to his people, didn't help on that front. And as always, there was the flash of green eyes right across from him, and the smug smile spreading across the handsome Englishman's face.

Lowering his eyes, China wondered if England just wanted to torture him more. These meetings were clearly pointless. After the humiliating defeat of the Bannermen to the Europeans- to those barbarians- the Treaty of Nanking had been signed and there was nothing China nor his emperor could do about it. They were completely and utterly at the mercy of the barbarians, forced to sign under their conditions.

He fisted a handful of his robe slightly, remembering how Hong Kong had been taken from him. China had wanted to scream in defiance, to fight back like the empire they were, but in the end, he had remained silent as he lost yet another child. There was nothing a defeated empire could do.

Because in the end, it was all just another way for England to exert control over him.

Glancing up through the hair hanging in front of his face, China noticed that his emperor and officials had finished conversing with those of England and were rising to leave. Knowing that he should follow suit, China got to his feet as well, trying to ignore that ever-present green stare, and lifted his head, trying to preserve his dignity.

"Yao."

Trailing behind the rest of the people departing from the room, China felt a hand on his arm and his mind muddled everything together, confusing everything in the summer heat and pounding headache until he found, looking up through those strands of hair, the green eyes of the Englishmen looking back.

As though moments in time had simply dropped out of his mind, China noticed that he was pressed up against a wall and far too close to the blonde. One of his hands was raised and pinned against the wall. England's other was right next to his head, and China suddenly remembered their height difference.

It was all unfair, too unfair. He'd simply been interested in the strange barbarians and their leader, with sandy hair and thick eyebrows and those green eyes. China was fairly certain people weren't supposed to have green eyes, and indeed, the barbarians hardly seemed human. And of course the one that referred to himself as England had been charismatic and entrancing and did not hesitate to show his teeth when he smiled. China knew that he was dangerous and at first he ignored it.

So they had gone from strolling the streets of China to being pressed far too close together in the heavy summer air, and China couldn't look into England's eyes. The border between love and hate was too thin and he didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't control himself.

"Yes?" The words came out calm and unbothered, a facade China had honed to perfection.

"About the Treaty." Finally China could bring himself to meet England's eyes, and immediately he recognized the look. It was the look of an empire, one he knew well because he had worn it in his Han days and might've during the rule of the Qing had the British not disgraced them during the Opium War.

"From now on you must only look at me."

China froze and felt heat flash across his skin. _Most favored nation. _So that's what England was talking about. If the ports and the money and tariffs- if _Hong Kong _wasn't enough, that was the final rule of the treaty.

"But Arthur," the name still felt more familiar on his tongue than any of the other barbarians' names, "I do not belong to you." No matter what the treaty dictated, the days of amiable companionship sitting under the sun together were gone. China had felt the desperate urge for opium and suffered its consequences, the whole time thinking of England and what had changed; he'd pulled his hair and squeezed his eyes shut to keep from crying and had wondered why England had done this to him. He'd felt his peoples' pain during the hopeless struggle against the technologically advanced British.

And the days of sitting with the blonde haired Englishman who took a lock of his hair, looked him the eyes and proclaimed him beautiful, were gone. They were part of a different life, something completely separate.

England blinked as though amused, and his smile confirmed the emotion. "It's almost practically that way," he responded loftily. "And I'll make you mine." He leaned forward, his voice almost coming in a whisper. "The most precious treasure in the empire."

There was a shiver running up China's spine, and the rational half of his brain killed the fantastical half. England didn't yet understand, as he was still relatively young, at least compared to China himself. China was beneath him, simply a toy to play with at the moment, and he would never stand for that. Maybe when they were equals, when China had the strength to match him in battle again, then he would look England straight in those green eyes and be able to love the man.

But it was not that day. China pulled his hand from England's grip, surprised to when he made no move to stop him, and strode by the blond Englishman into the summer heat.

China had no doubt they'd run into the barbarians again, and that England would continue to pursue his goal- he was an empire, after all, he got what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it. China understood the sentiment well.

Until then, China would continue to survive. He would better himself, grow stronger, and face England when they were on the same level. At the moment, even if he was surviving just barely, he would stand proudly like the dragon emblazoned on his robes, and waiting for the day when instead of the wars and treaties and opium, they could revert back to their old ways and simply sit and talk.

* * *

**A/N: This is a little one-shot I wrote awhile ago after reading about the Treaty of Nanking, an overall unfair treaty between the Chinese and British post-Opium war. One of the conditions of the treaty was that Britain would receive 'most favored nation' status from China, which means that they get advantages in trade such as reduced tariffs, etc. Of course, the way it sounded to me was far more shippy than economic, and thus this was born.**


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